


things unknown but longed for still

by emilia_kaisa



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Character Study, Feelings Realization, Friendship/Love, M/M, Pre-Relationship, Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,800
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28135032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emilia_kaisa/pseuds/emilia_kaisa
Summary: It's almost ridiculous how much more vulnerable he can feel at night than during a day. He's not a child anymore, and yet there is something about the unfamiliar darkness of countless hotel rooms that sometimes makes him feel uneasy- not about the shadow monsters he doesn't believe in, but of himself and what his tired mind is capable of doing.
Relationships: Nick Kyrgios/Andy Murray
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15
Collections: Yuletide 2020





	things unknown but longed for still

**Author's Note:**

  * For [storiesfortravellers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesfortravellers/gifts).



> Hello! This is my first Yuletide and my first fic in this fandom, and I'm really excited and maybe a tiny bit nervous to be posting it. It's been an interesting experience for me and I hope you'll enjoy it! <3

It's weird, Nick thinks, staring at the ceiling of his hotel room, it's surface smooth and painted in prisitne white, although now it's dark grey, with just a couple of fluttering shadows. Nick hates it when he can't fall asleep, another thing that he doesn't have control of, like his damn temper- a thought that he can't get out of his head, even though it boils his blood, just a little bit.

He's tall, and he's strong, but at the same time his body doesn't seem to be able to hold all that jittery energy inside him, and his head can't contain all his thoughts and emotions, everything bubbling up to the surface in a way that's is harsh and raw and usually socially unacceptable.

And to be honest, he knows it. But he's proud, and he's stubborn, and he's faced so much he likes to pretend that his skin is stone thick instead of paper thin.

It's easier to be nonchalant than apologetic, though, and Nick finds no shame in that.

He has an image and he knows it, and at this point he's used to keeping it, like an armor protecting him, a system he came up with when he first joined the tour. And it works, it truly works, except it doesn't work on Andy at all, because somehow he knew exactly what kind of a person Nick was since that first memorable match.

Nick lets out a quiet groan and covers his eyes with his hand, fingers digging in the flesh right above his eyebrows so hard it hurts.

Every cell of his body seems to be vibrating, and a thought slips through unguarded walls of his mind, and Nick knows that there is no chance of sleep now, not when that damn seed has been planted in the back of his head.

It's so stupid, he's so damn stupid, and this is just so frustrating he can't hold back all that pent up energy anymore. He sits up rapidly, his right arm shooting to the right and knocking the nightlamp off, sending it to the floor. It doesn't sound like it broke, and for a wild second Nick he wishes it did, but then he brings his hands to his face and just breathes, calming his heartbeat down.

It's almost ridiculous how much more vulnerable he can feel at night than during a day. He's not a child anymore, and yet there is something about the unfamiliar darkness of countless hotel rooms that sometimes makes him feel uneasy- not about the shadow monsters he doesn't believe in, but of himself and what his tired mind is capable of doing.

* * *

"Okay, what's up with you today? You slept on the pea, princess?"

Nick doesn't asnwer, only throws a dark glance in the general direction of the other side of the court. He throws the ball up for the serve, and he can't pretend he's really trying at this point, and he's not surprised when it lands in the net for the umpteenth time this training session.

He lets the racket slip to the ground, and he's feeling too tired for angry fits, too tired and too sleep-deprived. And he always tries to keep his nerves at bay around Andy, because Andy is always so patient and understanding with him, and Nick would prefer the ground to swallow him than to disrespect him in any way.

"You're alright?" Andy calls from the other side of the court and Nick shrugs, looking down at his shoes.

He feels odd, not like himself, his limbs weighing a tone, and suddenly he doesn't have enough strenght to even raise his head. He hears familiar footsteps approaching him, a shadow getting closer to the tips of his shoes, and then he has to look up and and straight into Andy's eyes.

"What's going on with you, huh?" Andy asks, taking his cap off and running a hand through his hair, and Nick can't help but follow the gesture with his eyes, and suddenly he really needs something to drink.

"Okay mr Speechless, we're calling it a day." Andy says, patting Nick on the shoulder "Let's go get some food." he offfers and Nick nods, the odd feeling dissolving a little as he follows Andy to where they left their bags, although by the time the reach the locker room he still doesn't feel exactly like himself. And it irritates him, especially because it's happening in Andy's presence, because Andy has always been the person Nick felt the most comfortable with, and now for some reason the thought of looking him in the eyes suddenly fills Nick with something that feels almost like guilt.

"Hey." Dominic smiles as he raises from a bench, clearly just finished tying his shoes up, ready to head out and hit a few balls "How's it going?"

"Good, just someone is a sunshine today." Andy snorts and Nick lets out a muffled grumble that has the other men chuckling.

"You're hilarious." he mumbles, peeling his shirt off and unceremoniously throwing in on the bench.

"Okay, for real, I'm getting a little fed up, mate." Andy says after maybe two minutes, when they're alone again "Talk to me, yeah?"

Nick sighs, and he's just about to turn around and say something fun and biting, but then he feels warm palm pressing between his shoulder blades, and it burns, a hot wave crashing through Nick’s body and almost making him tumble against the locker.

He doesn’t know if he wants to lean against the touch or get away from it, but what he knows is that’s he’s acting not like himself and that he has to put a stop to it, so he turns around and looks at Andy, who’s watching him with his eyes narrowed in concern and confusion.

“Sorry.” Nick says, and he has to clear his throat because of how hoarse his voice sounds “I slept like shit and I guess I’m not really awake still.”

Andy doesn't seem too convinced, but he nods slowly, and a hand that previously touched Nick's back is now tucked safely in his pocket, and Nick catches himself wishing to feel it against his skin again.

"Okay." Andy finally says "Lunch on me, we're gonna get you back on track."

"Cool." Nick nods "Just, give me five." he says and then rushes to the washroom where he sprinkles his face with cold water and looks at his reflection in the mirror. He can't pinpoint what's different, but when he sees into his own eyes, he can't ignore all the insecurity he sees there.

“Get a grip.” he mumbles, curling his fingers in the edge of the bathroom sink, so hard his knuckles go white “It’s just him. Just Andy.”

And what if that’s exactly the case?

* * *

  
  


Sometimes Nick goes back to when he met Andy for the very first time, on the beautiful courts of Toronto, when he stood against someone who he had been admiring for years. He got pretty much crushed, managing to win two games each set, and even though he was naturally disappointed with losing, but he didn't stay upset for too long, because it was right then he learned how great of a guy Andy Murray was. After the match, he didn't go his way instantly, but instead lingered near Nick, cracking a couple of jokes, as if trying to figure out what kind of the person he was.

And Nick, being himself and in need of distraction and a good word- he responded immediately, and since that moment it felt like an entire new chapter began in the book of Nick's friendships.

It feels like longer, honestly. There's that special kind of ease between them, understanding that some people work years for. But they clicked together immediately, like two pieces of a puzzle, however corny and ridiculous that sounds. But that's the truth, and sometimes Nick can barely remember how it was before, when the bond they have now wasn't there yet. They're not exactly the same, their tempers and the way they face their feelings and the world, but yet they're similar in many ways, something that makes Nick-

"You still here?"

Nick flinches and looks up, meeting Andy's gaze above the table.

"Uh?" he asks eloquently and Andy gives him a look that is both unimpressed and amused.

"Who are you flirting with?" he asks, nodding towards the phone Nick is holding in his hands, and that little teasing joke kicks him back to action, like a sailor suddenly entering familiar waters.

"You're the only one I ever flirt with."

Andry throws his head back as he laughs, that rough, vibrating sound that is quite contagious. It's that easy, being with Andy, joking and exchanging remarks so dry and biting people around the turn their heads to look at them with disbelief. But this is who they are, and this is how they work together, and sometimes Nick thinks he doesn't need approval of anyone else.

Which isn't exactly the truth, but well, it's not like he can get everything he wants.

And he wants so many unreachable things, too many, but he doesn’t think of it now, too distracted with a little strand of Andy’s hair curling over his forehead, and he wonders if it has always been there or if he notices just now, and his stomach churns, as if his own body knows something his brain doesn’t yet, and laughs at him.

"Ah, I gotta run." Andy says suddenly after glancing at his watch "I forgot I had this dumb interview thing I'm definitely going to be late for..."

"Go and charm them, Muzz." Nick cheers, making his voice falsely mocking, and Andy snorts, rolling his eyes.

"That's what I do for a living."

Nick laughs for good measure and waves him off, and then he suddenly feels as if all the air left his lungs and he sighs heavily, shoulders dropping. He watches Andy disappear in the crowd and his heart flutters, as if his body reminds him of something he can't really keep on ignoring.

* * *

  
  


Nick closes his eyes and leans forward to rest his forehead against the cold tiles of the wall, a soothing contrast to the hot water pouring on him from the shower. He isn't sure how long he has been standing there, but he has no intention to move, not ready to face the world, even though it's late in the evening and his only companions are his own thoughts, that yet also seem to be his biggest enemy.

Nick is a lot of things, but he isn't a fool, and he really isn't that big of a liar to keep on pretending he doesn't understand what's going on with him. He just has to man up and accept the fact that he has feelings for Andy, terrible, confusing and consumming feelings Nick has no idea how to handle, because it shouldn't be happening. Because Nick isn't into guys, he never was, but all of the sudden when it comes to Andy his senses and heart suddenly go crazy, no matter what his brain is trying to tell him.

And even with that realization he can't tell when it started, not after pushing it back for so long, pretending that these are just friendship, respect, fondness. But Nick has been a fool, and now he's paying the price, wondering if that terrible ache in his chest and tightness in his abdomen mean love.

Nick flinches when he hears knocking at the door of his room, loud enough he can hear it through from the bathroom and through the steady stream of water. He has no intention of moving, counting on the intruder to go away, but the knocking only seems to intensify and Nick curses loudly, turning the water off so violently it's a miracle he doesn't break anything. He grabs a towel and wraps it around his waist, not bothering with drying himself up, and he's ready to give that musterious person a piece of Nick Kyrgios that the media likes to write about so much. But then he opens the door, he suddenly stands face to face with Andy, and his already warm skin feels even hotter as a wave of desire crashes through him, not held back by any pretending, the wall fallen down already.

"Dude, I've been trying to reach you for an hour, I seriosuly started to worry." Andy grumbles, walking past Nick and inside his room "For real, I think we need to have a conversation-"

Dumbfounded, Nick closes the door and leans against it, grateful for something solid against his back, and he's very aware of the fact that he wears only a towel and that in the light of the newest revelations might not be the best of options.

"Sorry, my phone was off-"

"Your phone is never off." Andy says, stepping closer, and Nick swallows hard, his heart picking up fast, erratic rhythm.

"Nick, for fuck's sake." Andy murmurs softly, reaching to cup Nick's cheek "Talk to me."

It's too much, and Nick can't wrap his head arounf what's happening; he only knows that his skin tingles in the spot Andy is touching him, and that it doesn't feel real, like a surreal picture taken of one of his dreams.

"I think you should go." he croaks, not even thinking about it, the words leaving his mouth without his control, and Andy narrows his eyes, head tilting to the side, as if he's wondering about something. And then, in a blink of an eye, his expression smoothens, and Nick swears he can see a hint of that damn smirk of his, and Nick's heart goes berserk in his chest, pounding so hard for a split second he worries if his ribs are going to make it in one piece.

"I can't, you're blocking the door." Andy points out, his voice that familiar mix of humor and fondness, something Nick loves so much about him but can't handle know, because it's too much, and he just really needs to be alone to figure out what to do not to let Andy know and don't ruin the friendship they have, something too important for Nick to risk.

And for that he needs Andy to go, but he can't force his muscles to move, not when Andy stands so close, his thumb brushing small cirles on Nick's cheek.

"I-" his voice catches in his throat, and he has no idea what to say, how to fight with his body not to ruin one of the most important relationships of his life.

All of the sudden, something shifts in Andy's expression, his eyes turning thoughtful, line of his mouth softening.

"Oh Nick." he sighs, so incredibly gentle all of the sudden, his fingers sliding down Nick's cheek to grab his chin "You've really been struggling, haven't you?"

"You don't understand." Nick tries breathlessly, one desperate attempt to somehow salvage that situation, even though he's pretty sure his heartbeat is too loud for Andy not to hear it. His whole body feels hot, every muscle tense right while waiting to receive a serve, and Nick realizes through the cloud of shame and desire, that there's nothing he can do now.

Andy looks at him, really looks at him, as if he could see in the parts of Nick’s soul that he can’t even find himself yet, and his lips part just a little bit, like always when he’s about to ask about something important.

“What if I do?” 

Nick opens his mouth but is unable to make a sound, because his hazy brain suddenly allows a possibility that Andy indeed knows, and that for some reason, he isn’t taking it like something ridiculous, and Nick can’t make anything of it. It’s all too much, and he can’t think, he can barely breathe, he can only look into Andy’s eyes and feel his heart growing heavy and tender in his chest.

“You gotta clear your head sometimes, Nick.” Andy whispers, leaning closer, and Nick’s breathing stops when he realizes that it’s an invitation. That Andy knows, and that he isn’t angry, or disgusted, or taken aback. 

No.

Instead, Andy stands so close their breaths are mingling, and it feels like he’s leaving the choice to Nick. And maybe it’s exactly what he’s doing. 

Nick has always been a wild card.

People like to say that he’s a wasted potential. That he’s too much, too loud, unbashed, out of control. That he has missed too many chances. 

And maybe they have a point, somehow, but he’d be damned if he missed that one, whatever it is. 

He leans forward and for the first time in ages, he doesn’t think of anything.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading!


End file.
